


Painting the Town Red

by fEl24601



Series: Ruby Red [4]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Fatherhood, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 11:25:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16240637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fEl24601/pseuds/fEl24601
Summary: Set 3 years after Ruby Red.December holds too many memories for the Snow-Pitches.





	Painting the Town Red

SIMON

 

Everything was crazy around the holidays. And not just the usual holiday season madness, but everything that got heaped on top of it. Namely too many memories. Christmas never goes by without a good backswing into long-suppressed trauma and nightmares. It’s all just so much— the whole ordeal with the Mage in winter of our eighth year, losing Ebb, losing my magic, very nearly losing Baz, and losing the closet thing I ever had to a parent as well as all of my respect for him. And newer memories, newer terror— the night the children’s home burned, the night I got a panicked phone call and raced to the home, my project, hoping beyond hope not to need to order child-sized coffins for parentless mages. The night my daughter was nearly killed, the night she was bitten by a vampire.

But also, the night we met her. The night SimonandBaz became SimonBazandRuby, a family. The Snow-Pitches. That anniversary had come and gone twice, going on three times, and it hadn’t gotten any easier yet.

So you see. Everything is crazy around the holidays.

It doesn’t help that I never really learned how to deal with extreme emotions, how to handle my anxiety and panic. I had some tricks, sure, but no real coping method, no plan.

So it made for a lot of long days.

The worst was one just before school let out for the holidays. I got up at ass-o’clock in the morning to get to the bakery and put in my time for the day before opening at 7. It never got any easier dragging myself out of bed hours before the sun would rise, pulling myself away from Baz and bedsheets and bliss. Bed was my favourite place for Baz to be. Something about the combination of drowsiness and warm fabric made him boneless and uninhibited. He spoke totally differently when he was two-steps from sleep. He could wax poetic at any hour of the day, sure, but something about sleepy Baz was downright Shakespearean. And nothing compared to Baz, exhausted and dreamy, rolling over to drape himself bodily over me and doze off with his nose pressed to my throat and one arm strong across my chest. It was divine. So heavenly that on those nights I almost struggled to fall asleep myself, though Baz slumbered on peacefully, sighing into my skin, because I knew perfectly sure that there was no way in hell anything I dreamed up could compare to my actual life.

Anyway.

I painfully removed myself from my sleeping husband’s gentle grasp, woefully exchanging the slip of our sheets and the texture of his skin for my usual flour-covered work clothes. 3 am would be lovely if I didn’t have to go anywhere. It hurts to brush your teeth in the harsh light of the bathroom, shivering a little, when you’re well aware that the coziest, warmest, most delightful thing on earth (not to mention the bed) is six feet away and you can’t curl up into it.

I tugged the door silently shut behind me and tiptoed away, pausing in the hall to press my ear to Ruby’s door. Nothing, as usual. Good. It had been a while since the last time her night terrors split the silence, but we all knew it was only a matter of time before one came back. She’d been through too much for it not to.

I drank coffee in the car while I drove to the bakery, already counting down the hours until I could go home and see my family. Though, even once I was through at the bakery that time wouldn’t come for hours yet. That was my curse, this time of year, when my mind swam with my worst memories and my pulse at all times seemed to pound like a hammer. That when I got off work and went home it was barely 9 am. And with Ruby at school and Baz teaching at Watford, I wouldn’t see them for hours yet.

 

BAZ

 

Every year in the month of December I lamented the fact that there was no known spell to speed up time (in the absence of fun, anyway.) Because I knew that I couldn’t leave work early. The students needed their valuable education, and I cared too much about my job to do it poorly. But this time of year brought back some of the worst memories of my life (more still get dredged up in the summer, because my life hasn’t been a fucking cake walk) and it made me yearn for my family more so than usual. (It never really lets up, if I’m honest. You’d yearn too if you had my husband and daughter.) And Simon— poor Simon, this time of year. It wrecked him, and it killed me to spend so much of the day without him when I knew he needed me.

Still— it was very nearly the anniversary of the day three years prior that Simon and I met Ruby, took a leap of faith, and started a family. And that was cause for celebration. Three years of being fathers, of being Ruby’s fathers. Three years of having that sweet little monster running around and making everything beautiful. She was eight, and growing like mad, and so much more sharp and brilliant and charming than we ever could have dreamed.

My heart hurt when I recalled that night. Ruby’s little cries and her small hands clutching me, still a stranger then. She was the last one still trapped in the burning building. She came so close to death that night, and Simon and I would have never been the same. Let alone having never met our daughter, our perfect puzzle piece, but having such a loss on the collective conscience of the children’s home. It would have destroyed Simon, truly. To have the thing he worked so hard for, put so much of his heart and soul into, suffer such a tragedy. And Crowley, what would life be like now? If we hadn’t found Ruby? Even if she lived, even if they got her out before we arrived that night. If we didn’t meet her, see the bite on her skin. Three years of happiness we could have missed out on.

I taught my last class at 1 that day, and normally would have opened my door for office hours for some time afterward. Though, I decided, going home early once in a while couldn’t hurt.

 

SIMON

 

The day passed so slowly. I was weirdly productive, despite my melancholy. I tried so many things to keep my mind off everything. To help myself not think I cleaned the kitchen, tidied the living room, did laundry. I baked some bread even though I brought home a fresh loaf from work that morning. (It never hurts to have more on standby.) And eventually I found myself slouched in Baz’s favourite armchair, head on my hands and overwhelmed with a barrage of unwelcome memories.

Two more hours until I could go pick up Ruby. Merlin, I just wanted to hug her. I wanted my family home _immediately._ I wanted them all right where I could see them, hug them, hold them, love them, know that I had them, that everything turned out okay. Better than okay. I wanted Ruby and Baz home that very second.

And somehow, for some reason, Baz materialized in front of me.

I was on my feet instantly, not even caring why on earth he was there, just throwing my arms around him, coat and all.

“Hello, my love,” he murmured, squeezing me tight.

“You’re home,” I breathed, half a question. Merlin, he smelled so good.

He nodded against my hair. “It’s December,” he said by way of explanation. And oh did I ever understand. 

I let go of him just enough when he moved to take off his coat, and leaned right back in as soon as he’d tossed it onto the chair I’d vacated. His arms locked snug around my waist. “You read my mind,” I told him, admiring the unique shade of overcast that his eyes were at that moment. “I was just thinking that I wished you were here.”

Baz’s lips quirked up a little, and I mirrored him subconsciously. “I wished I was here, too. So I am.” 

We held each other, unmoving, in the living room for a while. I didn’t need to tell him all that I was feeling and he didn’t need to tell me that he knew, that he felt the same, that he understood what I went through every winter.

There was a picture on the wall, big and in a shiny frame, taken two years prior on the first anniversary of Ruby’s arrival. Photo-us glowed, deliriously happy, Ruby beaming between Baz and I on the couch (though you can’t see it because Penny zoomed in pretty close. It’s mostly faces and shoulders.) In my humble opinion it was the greatest photo ever taken. I watched Baz’s face brighten as it caught his eye.

“Three years next week,” he mused. And I smiled too, because despite all the shit that December brought, it had one really excellent thing going for it.

“I love her so much,” I breathed. “And you. I love you so much. I love our family. Fuck,” I said, because all of a sudden my eyes were wet. Baz laughed and pulled back a bit, brushing his thumbs under my eyes, his wedding ring cool against my cheek. No one brushed away tears like Baz. With an eight year old adopted vampire in the house, it was not an irregular occurrence. And then he wrapped his arms tight around me and buried his face in my shoulder, hugged me so hard I could barely breathe. (Vampire strength.) It shocked me for a moment before I came to my senses and held him again too, running a hand through his hair.

“Me too,” he said, voice muffled by my jumper. “Crowley. I know.” 

A few minutes later his arms sagged, and I released him in favour of stroking his face. He lifted his head from my shoulder and gazed at me ( _gazed.)_ (I’ll never get over Baz Pitch gazing at me.) (Correction: Baz Snow-Pitch.) We were both fucking messes, and I simultaneously needed a great deal more affection immediately and also something normal, non-emotional, to calm me down.

“Okay,” I said, voice sounding way too thick to be casual. “December is shit. I want to think about something else.”

He nodded, back to business. “How long till Ruby’s out?”

“Couple hours yet.”

“I miss her.”

“Me too.”

A conspiratorial twinkle appeared in his eye. “I left school early today. The bad example has been set. Perhaps Ruby could leave early too, just this once?”

I gaped at him. “Who _are_ you?” I laughed. But also, “Yes, though. Brilliant idea. Let’s go.”

 

BAZ

 

The administration at the school was very confused when we insisted that Ruby needed to leave early with us. It _was_ highly unprecedented. Pitches did not skip school. Simon was floundering, trying to come up with a viable reason as to why Ruby should miss the rest of the afternoon, but he’s never been the talented liar out of the two of us.

“We scheduled the optometrist appointment ages ago and completely forgot about it,” I said apologetically, infusing my voice with as much honeyed sweetness as possible. “We’re terribly sorry. But it can’t be rescheduled.”

Simon let out a sigh when the secretary finally gave up and picked up the phone to alert Ruby’s teacher. Minutes later Ruby came scurrying down the hall, raincoat on and backpack dragging behind her.

“I have to see the eye doctor?” she asked as we ushered her swiftly out of the building. The people in the office watched us with narrowed eyes as we hurried to the car.

“No, father lied,” Simon said with a massive grin. Ruby gasped. “It’s a secret, all right dear? We decided that we should have some family time this afternoon.”

Ruby’s face lit up while I helped her do up her seatbelt. “That’s a great secret,” she said. “A happy secret. Okay. What are we doing?”

Simon and I glanced at each other. “Good question,” I said. “Any suggestions?”

Simon looked leagues better already. He was so weary and pale when I spelled myself home earlier. Just being together was putting light back in his eyes. This was without a doubt the right decision. (And I was grateful too.)

“Hmm.” Ruby tapped her finger on her chin while she thought. Her hair was up in a ponytail, which really just meant that it wasn’t all in her face, because it still reached most of the way down her back. She needed a haircut, but neither Simon nor I could seem to work up the muster to get rid of any of her beautiful curls. “I don’t know,” she said, “let’s just have an adventure. No plan.”

Simon’s smile nearly stopped my half-dead heart. “Sounds perfect,” he said, pulling out of the parking lot. “Let me know if you want us to stop somewhere.”

We drove and drove. Ruby sang along to the radio and pointed out any and all things she saw out the windows. Simon and I held hands on the centre console, and I watched Ruby’s smiling little face in the rearview mirror. We drove around London, watching the spectacular Christmas lights glitter overhead against the cloudy sky. Eventually we parked somewhere and walked around, drifting toward Covent Garden because Ruby always loved the huge festive displays there. We sipped hot apple cider, peered in shop windows, laughed as Ruby skipped on the cobblestones. The sky was starting to darken when Ruby suggested we go home and cook dinner together. Because she’s brilliant, as I always said, and she knew exactly what we all needed.

 

SIMON

 

Ruby apparently was also a mind reader, because she gave us exactly the right afternoon. She was eight, not a toddler, and would have been totally within reason if she’d just wanted to go home and be in her room. But she loved family time, and somehow she knew how badly Baz and I needed it. Or she didn’t, and she was just willing to go along with the plan. Either way, it was what my heart needed.

We cooked together, Ruby stirring sauce while I sliced and diced and Baz set the table. (I was never concerned about her near the stove. I had the gas range replaced with an electric glass-top one in the weeks after she came home. Two vampires near and dear to my heart meant that we lived in a strictly no-flame household, even if that meant compromising the quality of my kitchen.) (Obviously one was way more important than the other.) We ate together, cleaned up together, played a board game (at Ruby’s request— she’s weirdly good at Clue and it makes Baz very confused about his own problem-solving skills) and read story after story after story in her cozy little wonderland bedroom. Ruby sat in my lap and I leaned against Baz while he read, basking in the low timbre of his voice and the warm weight of my daughter snuggling into my chest. I could never hold her enough. And as long as I lived I was sure I’d never hold her enough. She kicked out her feet at one point and rested her legs atop one of Baz’s, and sank down a little lower into my lap, squishing her cheek into my chest. I couldn’t even hear the words Baz was reading, just the lovely sound of his voice, I was so enamoured with Ruby and her sweet little smile. I never wanted to leave that moment. Which was outrageous because also, in that moment, I couldn’t wait to see all of the amazing things that Ruby would do in her life. All of my traumas and terrors remained, but they didn’t burn half as bright as my _now._

It wasn’t fine. There were still several weeks of terrible December to get through. But Merlin— I wasn’t alone. My beautiful family wanted these moments together as badly as I did. And it isn’t as though nothing good ever came from a December. Because the very best was cuddled up in my lap, clutching her ever-favourite little dragon and bat. (And, I supposed, my relationship with Baz came out of a December too. Shit, December. We rarely celebrated that anniversary anymore though, because it was hard to celebrate on Christmas eve when so much shit happened on Christmas day. And when we just wanted to give our child a merry Christmas without being swarmed by bad memories. Crowley. Our wedding anniversary was in the autumn, so we focused on that.)

Everything was a little easier to handle when Ruby was peacefully asleep in her periwinkle cloud bed and Baz was getting into ours. (Have I mentioned that Baz in bed is my favourite?)

“Thank you,” I whispered as we moved toward each other, eliminating all space between us in the middle of the mattress. “I needed today.”

“So did I,” he murmured, hissing when my foot brushed his. “Fuck, Snow, your feet are cold.”

“You’re one to talk, you’re _always_ cold.”

“And thank goodness I am, or you might combust.”

I grinned as I pressed myself closer to him. He always warmed up to room temperature after a few minutes entangled with me. Still cool enough that he felt like a perfect, personal cool breeze when I got too warm at night. He tasted like mint when I kissed him, planning on taking my time, but he clearly had other plans because I felt the delicious swipe of his tongue against my lower lip pretty quickly. I chuckled against his mouth, which did not let up, and I let my husband take the lead, rolling me beneath him and spreading me out on the sheets. I gripped his hand as his mouth moved agonizingly slowly down my neck.

I was without a doubt going to call in sick to the bakery the next day to spend the morning in bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again for all the kind support for this series!! It's so appreciated.  
> (If you have requests or suggestions let me know!)


End file.
